Saying Goodbye
by CupcakeSprinkles14
Summary: For Drunken Assassin: Peeta and Cato's relationship had always been rocky, but no matter how many arguments they went through, they always made up in the end. But after a heated argument about marriage, Peeta storms out of the house and doesn't return. When Cato gets a phone call that pulls his whole world to a halt, he is told he has to say goodbye. Even if he doesn't want to.


**Saying Goodbye**

**For Drunken Assassin**

They met in the grocery store.

Cato remembered the day as if it had only been yesterday. He had went to the grocery store to buy some bread and milk because Clove had stayed over the previous night and had eaten him out of house and home. He decided he should just get all of his groceries while he was there, to save him a later trip.

He had been walking through the toilteries aisle when he saw him. Now, you can pretend all you like that when you first saw your lover, your partner, your other half, that it was love at first sight. That you fell in love with their personalities before their looks. Which, okay, is possible. But only with the tiniest of possibilities. There's a reason you are attracted to a certain person and most of that comes from how they look.

What had captured Cato's attention to this particular boy was the fact that he was standing on the bottom shelf, trying to reach a bottle of bleach at the top. Maybe it was his bravery he admired, or his resourcefulness, they were what Cato claimed attracted him to Peeta in the first place if anyone asked. But the truth was that his ass looked amazing in the jeans he was wearing and Cato couldn't tear his eyes away.

As he had approached, Peeta had stepped off the shelf and blew a stray hair out of his eyes. He turned and saw Cato coming and his face had lit up. "You're tall!" he had declared.

Cato had looked down at himself and chuckled. "Uh, yeah, I guess I am," he said.

Peeta grinned and grabbed his arm. "Can you grab that bottle of bleach?" he asked, pointing at the blue bottle set particularly high up.

Cato made it look easy as he reached up and grabbed the bottle. Peeta had grabbed it and shoved it under his arm truimphantly. "I knew I'd get it eventually," he had said.

"You'd get it?" asked Cato.

The boy nodded. "Uh-huh," he said. "It's all a puzzle, you see. You just need to figure out the right moves." He turned on his heel and bent over to collect some of his stuff off the floor. Trust Cato when he said the jeans were _really, really _good jeans. When Peeta stood up again, he held a packet of blueberry muffins and a pack of double A batteries.

"That's a lot of stuff to carry," Cato had noticed. "Do you want to share my basket?"

Peeta shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Just as he spoke, the bleach bottle slipped out from under his arm and hit the floor. Thankfully it didn't burst, but the impact left an ugly dent in the corner of it. Peeta blushed in embarrassment. "Alright then."

They walked through the store together, talking about themselves and telling stories. Cato remembered hanging onto every word Peeta said, forgetting about the jeans all together and growing attached to his wonderful personality. When their stuff was bagged and they were standing outside the store, Peeta had written his number on a lottery ticket and gave it to Cato.

Ever since then they have been insepearable.

Except their relationship was never the strongest.

Arguments were common between the pair. It was always mended in the end, however, but because they knew that whoever stormed out of the house would return and they would apologize and make-up sex would ensue. Neither worried or cared about what they said. Because they knew it would get fixed later.

"What is it I did wrong?"

Cato was trailing a little bit behind Peeta as he stormed on ahead to their apartment. They had just had a dinner with Cato's parents and he had thought things were going well until Peeta started power walking to the apartment, clearly smouldering underneath his placid expression. He wouldn't answer any of Cato's questions and he concluded that he was waiting until they were inside the apartment before he flipped his lid.

As soon as they were in the apartment, Peeta started shouting. "I can't believe you said that!" he yelled.

"Said what?!" Cato exclaimed.

Peeta tore his jacket off and threw it onto the sofa. He yelled in frustration and tore at his hair. "You told your parents I didn't want to get married!" he shouted.

Cato tried to recall him saying that but couldn't find it anywhere in his memory banks. "I told your parents you weren't ready to get married just yet," he said. Peeta threw his hands in the air, as if Cato had openly admitted that he told his parents that he didn't want to get married. "Hold on, am I missing something?"

"Your parents don't like me enough as it is, Cato!" Peeta said. "How could you tell them that? They're going to hate me even more! I'm nothing to them but the slutty blond boy who corrupted their son!"

"Well, I think I corrupted you more than you corrupted me," Cato answered. Peeta glared and fired a shoe at him, which he just managed to dodge. Okay, not a time for jokes. "Look, don't worry about it. My parents are crazy as it is. They won't like anyone I end up with because I'm the youngest in the family and they want to cling on."

"I don't want to spend my whole life being disliked by your parents," said Peeta. "What sort of life is that?"

"A happy one, because we'll have each other," Cato replied, trying to look on the bright side of things. His face fell when Peeta laughed as if he had cracked a joke.

"I don't want to be judged by your family because I love you," Peeta muttered. "I want them to accept me for who I am and not care that I don't go to church and am not entirely fond of the idea of getting married or having a family. Isn't it enough that I love you? Do they not care about your happiness, Cato? Are they that clingly?"

Cato wasn't entirely fond of his parents either but it always irked him when other people made fun of them. "Don't get at my family because of something I said, Peeta. Stay on topic," he said.

"This is on topic, can't you see!?" Peeta demanded. "If your family can't accept me, how is our relationship going to evolve? I mean for god's sake your mother is around here everyday I'm expecting her to move across the road like in Everybody Loves fucking Raymond!"

Cato frowned. "She's not that bad," he said.

Peeta walked around the sofa so he stood in front of Cato, the coffee table being the only thing separating them. The anger was radiating off him, poisoning the air around them and filling it with rage. "Yesterday she dropped off a casserole and rang five minutes later to ask if you liked it. Five minutes, Cato, five minutes! We barely had the thing fucking heated!"

"Peeta, calm down, stop swearing," Cato said carefully.

Peeta narrowed his eyes. When angry, his mouth took on a life of its own and he swore enough to make a sailor blush. They had a swear tin in their room that was overflowing with coppers. "Do not fucking patronize me Cato fucking Hadley I will fucking swear if I fucking want to, alright?!"

Trying to get the situation out from underneath the heavy undercloud of grey doom that it was currently trapped under, Cato said, "Did I ever tell you that you're hot when you're angry?" It normally worked, this was his go-to if things were getting too intense. It was true, too. When mad, Peeta's eyes darkened into a gorgeous night blue and his nostrils did this cute little thing where they flared when he breathed.

A burn suddenly exploded across Cato's cheek and he realized, with shock, that Peeta had smacked him."I'm being serious you ignorant bastard!" his partner shouted.

Cato flexed his jaw. Okay, that didn't work. "What do you want from me?!" he exclaimed. Peeta scowled but didn't answered. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it!"

Peeta clenched his fists. "If you were given the choice, if you had to choose between me and your family, who would you choose?"

"It would never come down to that," said Cato.

"What if your family said they would disown you if you kept dating me, what would you tell them?" asked Peeta. His eyes were shining as tears began to gather and dampen his eyelashes. "Would you leave me?"

Cato didn't know how to answer. He didn't want to think about having to choose between Peeta and his family. The two things he loved the most in this world. "I don't know," he answered honestly.

Peeta stepped back, realization washing over his face like a tidal wave. "I see," he said. "I suppose I know where I stand now."

"Peeta." Cato tried to grab his arm as he walked away but Peeta wrenched it out of his grasp. "Peeta, don't leave."

"Go fuck yourself Cato," Peeta snapped. He stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door for good measure.

Cato groaned and threw himself onto the couch. Urgh, why did things have to be so complicated? When Peeta got back later, he'd have to sit him down and explain that of course he wouldn't leave him. Nobody in the whole world could ever tear them apart. It was just in that moment he had panicked and didn't know what to say. It was a bit of an unfair question, though. Cato knew his family weren't too fond of Peeta because he was an atheist and didn't go to church but they would never make Cato choose between them. They weren't that cruel.

Cato fell asleep on the sofa waiting for Peeta to come home. Sometimes he went to his friend Madge's and didn't come back for a whole day. After a particulary nasty arugment where Cato had gotten so angry he pushed Peeta against a wall and put his first through the dry-wall, Peeta didn't return for a whole week. Cato didn't blame him, he was surprised Peeta even took him back after that. Maybe it was true what they say about love being blind.

He was awoken by the phone ringing. Body ladened down with sleep, Cato rubbed his eye and fumbled for the phone. He glanced at the clock. Three in the morning. As his mother would say, 'the devil's hour.' Looked like Peeta was pulling an all nighter at Madge's. Damnit, then Cato would have to beg to be let in because Madge was a stubborn girl who demanded grovelling after hurting her friends before allowing entry into her house.

Cato's hands finally found the phone and he pressed the green button. "Hello?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Cato Hadley?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

"Yes?" Cato replied, sitting up in curiousity. "Who's this?"

"Can you confirm that you are Cato Hadley, the next of kin of Peeta Mellark?" the voice asked.

Cato's stomach began to churn and an uneasy sensation washed over him. "Yes, I am," he said. "Why, what's happened?"

"There was an incident earlier tonight where the group known as The Careers executed a shooting at a local bar. Mr Mellark was passing by when it happened and recieved mutiple gun shot wounds to his body," the voice explained. Cato's heart stopped and he felt dizzy. This wasn't real, this had to be a dream.

"Is he okay?" Cato managed to find his voice to ask.

"He has been operated on but he is still in critical condition. We fear he won't make it through the night."

~xXx~

Cato nearly crashed his car into a wall in the Hospital carpark. He lurched out of his car and ran into the Hospital. The lady at the reception told him that Peeta was on the third floor. He couldn't wait for the elevator and took the stairs two at a time. His heart was beating so fast he could feel every thump like a punch to his chest.

When Cato found him, he couldn't take it.

There were so many wires coming out of his body, hooking him up to machines that were keeping him alive. There were bandages attached everywhere, all over his torso and one on his shoulder, dangerously close to the artery in his neck. An oxygen mask covered his face and he was being fed by a drip.

"Peeta?" Cato whispered, his voice broken. He got no response.

"I'm afraid he's in a coma," a doctor said, having suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Cato jumped in surprise but the shock was forgotten as he laid eyes on his boyfriend again. He looked so peaceful, almost like he was sleeping.

"When will he come out of it?" Cato asked.

"We don't know if he will," the doctor answered. "We fear he may go brain dead before he has a chance to wake up due to the severe head injuries he recieved." Cato bit his lip, trying to force back a sob. Tears fell anyway, soaking his face and shirt. The doctor touched his shoulder gently. "I'm so very sorry. You can stay with him as long as you need to."

When the doctor left, Cato moved to Peeta's side. He touched his face, which was still incredibly warm. "Peeta, baby, I don't know if you can hear me but I'm here," he said gently. "I'm not leaving you."

The lack of response he got tore Cato's heart apart. He wanted it to be six hours previous, when they were fighting over the now seeming tivial thing of Cato's parents not thinking they wanted to get married. Cato wanted to end the arugment, to tell Peeta that he would always choose him, because he loved him more than anyone else, and he would never let anyone get between them or tear them apart.

"I was an idiot earlier," Cato said, sitting on the seat beside the bed. "I didn't mean what I said. I'll always choose you over anything else. You're my world, Peeta, my everything. Without you there's nothing worth going on for. I need you in my life to keep me sane."

Still no response. Cato tried to keep himself together. The constant beep of the heartbeat moniter kept him calm, allowed him to relax a little. As long as that machine was making noise, then Peeta was going to be okay.

"And that's why I need you to stay strong and pull through, okay? Because you're my Peeta and no one else's and I need you to survive," Cato continued to say. "I don't want to have to say goodbye. Not yet. You've got so much to live for. We don't have to get married if you don't want to. We can elope, like you always said, run away to Australia or Africa or London. Anywhere you want. You just can't die now, okay?"

Was it his imagination or was the heart monitor slowing down?

"You're the love of my life, Peeta. You can't leave me," Cato firecely insisted. He gripped Peeta's hand grip and squeezed hard, as if he could hold on for him. "Please, I need you here. Without you I have nothing. I love you, stay with me, don't leave."

Peeta's eyes fluttered. Cato's heart soared for one fateful moment, thinking he was finally waking up.

Peeta whispered two words, muffled through the plastic of his oxygen mask, using his last breath to speak to Cato.

"I'm sorry."

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep._

Cato's eyes shot the monitor. Peeta had flatlined. "Peeta!" he screamed. "Peeta, wake up, don't do this!" He grabbed the small remote by Peeta's bed and jammed the red button. He was frantic. "Peeta, don't leave me, you can't leave me! Somebody HELP!" His eyes blurred with painful tears and he fumbled around, begging Peeta not to go. "Peeta, you can't leave me, please, I need you." He fell to his knees by the bed and pressed his forehead against the mattress. "I love you," he whispered brokenly.

By the time the doctors arrived, it was too late.

Peeta was gone.

**A/N: Aaargh, I hate writing sadness :'(**

**Please R&R!**

**I'm not taking any more requests, by the way, because I want to focus on some new ideas for stories.**


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